


One Year

by ineffablesheep



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: 12th of March, Bees, GNU Terry Pratchett, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 20:22:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6254536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineffablesheep/pseuds/ineffablesheep
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the 12th of March and Death has a visitor</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Year

Death stood in the doorway of his home, surveying the fields. It was the only colour in his dimension, other than black of course. There was never any weather here either, but somehow the corn waved in the breeze. This was not unusual. What was unusual however, was the figure making his way through the stalks. The gold corn rippled around him and spread across the landscape. As he reached Death's house, Death greeted him.

TAK. HELLO AGAIN

"Good to see you again." The man grinned. "Sorry to be a pain but I was wondering if you had seen my hat? It's gone missing."

And it was, Death noted. Sometime between dying and now, the familiar black hat had gone missing.

I WASN'T AWARE THAT WAS POSSIBLE. He never saw the dead twice [1], and he'd never known one to be able to lose something. [2]

"Neither was I. I don't think I ever wrote a character that lost something when they died. At least I didn't lose my glasses. Wouldn't have been able to find my way here"

I WOULD HAVE REMEMBERED IF YOU DID. I CANNOT FORGET, AS YOU WELL KNOW. Death stood to the side and held the door open. DO YOU WANT TO COME IN?

"That'd be great. Thank you." The man stepped inside and took his shoes off, leaving them by the front door. He trailed behind Death as the pair made their way to what Susan called the lounge. Their route took them past a familiar grandfather clock and an umbrella stand.

 

Eventually they reached the lounge, and the man climbed into a chair with a sigh. Like the rest of the furniture in the cavernous room, it was rather tall. Mind you, it was the house of a seven-feet-tall anthropomorphic personification. And, Death might not have the hang of dimensions but he could create rather comfortable chairs, Tak noted.

"You know, I never realised just what your place looked like. The dimensions thing, I mean. And the different shades of black [3]. He stroked his white beard thoughtfully. "And octarine. It's not as exciting as I was expecting." Death inspected the cushions and then sat on the sofa across from the man, boney knees clicking slightly as they bent. He was learning to be careful, least he mistake one of his cats for a fluffy cushion.

"You're going to have to see Granny about that."

I KNOW.

"Where is she anyway? I would have thought she was around." [4]

WHERE SHE'S HAPPY.

"I see."

WHAT BRINGS YOU HERE? OTHER THAN YOUR LOST HAT? Quietly, Tak sighed before he spoke.

"Are they getting on alright without me?" Death thought. Cheery Littlebottom was organising a training course with Miss Aching, who was currently busy with lambing. Commander Vimes was still going strong. Polly Perks was engaged to her long-time friend Maladict. Moist von Lipwig had proposed to Miss Dearheart, who had informed him that she was not going to be his wife; he was going to be her husband. The wizards had invented a new kind of breakfast and Lady Sybil had finally convinced Lord Vetinari to sleep more than three hours a night.

YES, he mused, I THINK THEY ARE.

The man smiled happily. "Good! I was a bit worried. I mean, they always had bit of a mind of their own but you know..." He trailed off.

PEOPLE ARE VERY ADAPTABLE AND RESILIANT.

"True.” The man nodded. “Do you think they miss me?" The silent on the earth, on Roundworld didn't need to be said.  
THEY DO, said Death without any hesitation. YOU ARE STILL SO IMPORTANT TO THEM. THEY MISS YOU, BUT THEY UNDERSTAND DEATH. YOU HELPED WITH THAT. Tak swallowed and nodded.

"Right. Good point. Thank you."

SO WHAT ARE YOUR PLANS NOW? Death asked, changing the subject. The man shrugged.

"Thought I'd go and visit Anghammarad. Find my hat."

YOU WOULD LIKE TO EXPERIENCE TRUE BOREDOM AS FREEDOM? The man just smiled.

"Thought I might take a short break from writing. I've still got lots of ideas, don’t worry! Although I’m not sure if I'll still have the same effect." Tak and Death stood, and the skeleton lead his guest back through the silent house.

 

As they passed the umbrella stand, Death noticed something was different. Hooked on one of the umbrellas, was a dusty black hat. It looked like it had been there for a while.

"There it is!" Tak reached out and took the hat, brushing it off before putting it on his head. He looked like his old self, Death thought. It was a comforting feeling.

WILL I BE SEEING YOU AGAIN? OR SHALL YOU BE MOVING ON? They had reached the front door, and at Death's question Tak looked up from tying his shoes.

"I'm not sure. Maybe." Death nodded. The man held out his hand and Death stared at him, puzzled.

"You shake it. It's a thing that people do."

APPOLOGIES. Death shook the offered hand before opening the front door. Tak stepped outside, into the black landscape. He turned around and looked up at Death.

"You know, I've always wanted to try out that swing you made [5]."

HEAD OUT TOWARDS THE ORCHARD. YOU MIGHT WANT TO SAY HELLO TO THE BEES ON YOUR WAY. SHE'LL BE HAPPY TO SEE YOU [6]. One of Death's eyes flickered once for a moment before brightening again. Tak [7] winked back at him. He was so much more human than he first made him, he mused.

"Of course, thank you."

Settling his hat on his head one last time, the man walked down the steps and headed off to find the orchard.

 

Death stared after him. He wasn't surprised the man hadn't moved on or simply faded. The belief that radiated off him was awesome, even after all this time. Death had met many so many souls, yet none as alive as this one.

TILL NEXT TIME, SIR TERRY.

After all, a man's not dead till his name's not spoken.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

[1] At this point Death had nearly given up on collecting Rincewind. Anyway, he quite enjoyed having someone other than Albert to talk to on a regular basis  
[2] Death remembered Mister Tulip, who had managed to lose nearly everything (including his life and most of his marballs) had managed to keep his potato. Even after Mister Pin had taken it from him. Mister Tulip was working his way up the reincarnation chain and was currently a stuttery sparrow.  
[3] On the Disc, if you split darkness with an eight-sided prism, you can see the different shades of black  
[4] I was writing this and then remembered that Granny was dead and ended up being even more emotional.  
[5] Along with music, tree swings were something of a difficulty for Death. This one was made of a plank of wood with a piece of rope tied to each end, and then tied onto a branch each side of the trunk. Realising that you couldn’t swing through the trunk, Death had simply removed enough trunk so that a young Susan could swing back and forth. All things considered, it was a very good swing.  
[6] Granny is totally hanging out with Death’s bees  
[7] Someone on tumblr posted the headcanon that Pterry is Tak; I love this idea so I have very politely stolen it

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a few days late but here's my contribution for the anniversary. I hope you all enjoy it, and I hope that you're all well. There's a bunch of references to the books so give me a yell if you spot them :)
> 
> It's a stand-alone fic, but I've set it in my "Memos" universe


End file.
